Dear Uncle G

Dear Uncle G.

It's been a hard couple of weeks. I can't believe just over two weeks ago you were here and we had a conversation about Aunt E's life, and death.

I guess I learned to be careful what I wish for. With Aunt E, I kept thinking that the sickness dragged on and on. I think at one point I even blogged about wanting less time. By the time she left, I'd already mourned her for six months. I miss her terribly but when she died, I'll admit, a part of me felt relieved. But you were gone in just a few seconds, or at least that's what the coroner said. And this is so much harder. For me that is. I know it was probably easier for you.

It would be a stretch to call you a father figure, but you were basically the only older adult male who played a significant role in my life over the past few years. I'll miss that. Everywhere I look there are reminders of you - a pair of gloves you left, a beer you made, a book you bought for LM, or a sleeper, or a toy. I'll keep all those things, but it breaks my heart to think there won't be any more. Your presence will fade away.

I am angry at you too. I'm mad that you never saw a doctor. Maybe they could have detected this - maybe they could have prevented in. Hearts are fixable things these days - just look at those late night talk show hosts having heart surgery and going on to host more shows. Don't you know we needed you? Didn't we have plans?

And I feel guilty too - guilty that I took you for granted. I thought we had more time and I've been so busy with work and Aunt E and LM - I tend to get a little wrapped up in myself. I thought we'd get to go to a football game, to have you over more, to take another family trip together, to go for lunch on the Drive again. I want you to know that when I first moved to this city the first time, 9 years ago now, you were my best bud. I'm so glad we got to know each other that way and become friends.

I know you weren't perfect, and you knew that too. You were actually a pretty weird guy. One of my earlier memories of you is about you talking about some obscure battle in British India. You were obsessed with weird military facts. And you could be pretty politically incorrect - which is kind of weird since you were pretty faaaaaar left. Plus you teased your sisters mercilessly.

Your place was so tidy when I went over. It was almost like you were expecting me. Your will was ready - your taxes done. Almost like you were preparing to die even though I know that was the farthest thing from your mind. All I had to do was clean up the blood and erase the porn off the computer. And put away the full glass you had out. I'm really sorry you didn't get to enjoy that one last drink. Maybe you're toasting us somewhere in heaven. I hope so. And if so give Aunt E a hug for me.